Watcher Compelled: Dark Angels Paranormal Romance (Watchers of the Gray Book 6)

by JL Madore

  Zander shook his head. “I agree with Seth on this one, Angel. Our family’s safety comes before all else. The mated wives and the children trump everything in life. You are our future. Our transitioned selves don’t survive without you.”

  Austin hugged him and kissed his cheek. “You’re letting your soft, gooey center show, angelman. Thea and Zane are good. Now that you’ve seen it for yourself, how about you stop fussin’ and go bring Bo home?”

  “Done deal.” Zander kissed his wife and smiled as she sighed against his lips. There were few things that brought him to his knees like knowing he was doing something right with his cowgirl. The feminine sounds she made when he kissed her infused strength to his weary soul. “As you were, ladies. Let the RomCon marathon continue.”

  “Ha,” Ronnie said, pegging him off with a piece of popcorn. “Shows what you know, Commander. I’m enlightening the ladies on the joys of Supernatural.”

  Zander shook his head. “For the life of me, I can’t see how that appeals to you. We live it every night.”

  Austin shrugged and sat back down, grabbing the chenille throw and pulling it across her lap. “But these brothers are funny. Right now, we need a little funny to keep our minds off things.”

  Bo’s consciousness was stuck halfway in and out of reality. There were moments he realized he was a captive and others when he swore he was lost in the centuries of his past. Gyda. His transition. Nephilim training. Meeting the garrison. It bubbled in a jumbled pot of mind-mash stew and someone kept stirring.

  His clearest moments occurred when his beast reared and took notice. The female invading his thoughts was someone familiar to him. Even with the mental shielding and blocks she put up, his beast recognized her. He wasn’t sure if it was her scent or her presence or the feel of her fingers on the backs of his hands, but he knew her.

  He only wished he could see her.

  His mind provided flashes now and then, but for the most part, she’d thrown up one helluva block, and he was as blind as a baby bat.

  “Don’t fight, Bo. I’m your best chance of getting out of this. Give me what I want, then all the tension and pain can be over. They’ll set you free. You want to go back to your life, right? You’ve got family waiting on you, Bo. They’re worried about you.”

  Yes, his family would worry. He thought about the panic when Kyrian disappeared and then Danel. After what happened to Tanek, they took MIA very seriously. His brothers would be razing the city. The wives would be circling the wagons and waiting for word. He loved his family.

  “Trust me, my Dane.” Gyda’s voice sang sweetly in his mind and he relaxed.

  Of course he trusted Gyda. It was she who shouldn’t have trusted him. “I’m sorry, elskan mín. I failed you.”

  “You can make it up to me.”

  “Name it, and it shall be done.”

  “Stop fighting, Bosse, my love. Lower your tension and let me be one with you. I need you to trust me.”

  Bo couldn’t deny his love anything. After what she suffered due to his arrogance, he would forever be in her debt. While his beast raged and the buzzing in his head grew deafening, he let his guard down.

  His sweet Gyda would never harm him. Hearing her voice call to him from Valhalla eased his heart and soul. Physically, it had quite the opposite response. His cock was hard and aching for the return of his young love.

  “That’s it, my warrior. Now, this can all be over, and you can go home.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Brennus’s beast coiled like a snake about to drop fang into the first person who looked at him funny. Out of sorts was a colossal understatement. The aftereffects of the sextathalon in Purgatory, Bo getting snatched, Colt and that kiss—why couldn’t anything go as planned? The universe insisted on cracking him in the nuts. And speaking of his nuts, he had the worst case of blue balls ever. Colt Creed pushed his buttons.

  Asshole.

  It’ll be dawn soon, Phoenix signed. Are you up for one more trip around the track?

  “Aye, let’s do it.” He pulled up the collar of his jacket to shield his throat against the brutal slap of the wind coming in off Lake Ontario. His brother was as edgy and antsy as he.

  The two of them had been no use standing around the war table not strategizing anything. They’d taken their leave and had spent the better part of the past two hours retracing the night. The crash site, the direction the rescue truck drove off, the spots that set off Phoenix’s dark magic mojo.

  He felt it too. Brennus’s special gift from the heavens was Otherworld mojo—magic, death, demon siphoning power from the sphincter of Hell.

  You know, all the merry-fucking-sunshine stuff.

  “There’s foul energy polluting this area.” Brennus squinted against the bite of the wind and wiped the water streaming from his eyes. “Weel now, what the fuck do you make of that?”

  Phoenix followed his pointing finger, and the two of them upped their pace to a committed jog. Brennus tapped the comm built into the center of his weapons vest and waited for the beep. “We have eyes on the Viking. I repeat, we have blondie and could use an escort to the clinic.”

  “What’s your location?” Tanek said, male voices drowning him out.

  “Not far from the wee island airport parking lot. Just south of Lakeshore.”

  “I’ll send Seth in the . . . okay, no Navigator,” Tanek said, more to the peanut gallery than to him. “Danel, I know the Mustang has never seen the winter streets but—”

  “Yeah, I’ll make an exception.”

  Brennus reached out to grab Bo as he lilted toward the graveled ground. “Did ye hear that, my brother. Yer gettin’ a ride in the Mustang.”

  “No need,” Bo said, waving him off. “I’ll ghost it.”

  Brennus popped a brow and assessed Bo’s current state of bent-over bloodiness. “Are ye sure? Yer lookin’ rough.”

  Bo shook his head but didn’t seem bothered by the movement. “I’m sure. I want to get home.”

  Brennus caught Phoenix’s gaze, and the guy shrugged. “Okay, Viking. Off we go to the clinic. Lead the way.”

  When his brother up and vanished, Brennus counted himself lucky to be wrong. “All right, boys, it seems we’re comin’ home the quick way. See you there.”

  Thea helped Austin pull together a morning celebration breakfast feast: eggs, back bacon, pancakes, biscuits, oatmeal, toast, grilled cheese. The house smelled like a warm welcome—as it should—and they were anxious for the men to return from the clinic so they could see for themselves that Bo was well.

  “As stressful kidnappings go,” Austin said, cutting a second slab of butter for the table, “this one resolved itself quite quickly.”

  Ronnie looked up from her phone. “Danel says Bo is fine. Drina checked him out, and it seems the good guys marked a point on the scoreboard tonight.”

  “Thank the goddess,” Storme said, pulling out three different kinds of juice to set up on the sidebar.

  Austin nodded. “I have thanked her, and will again as soon as I have a moment.”

  Thea carried the first of the platters to the table and placed a heating cover over it. “I’m looking forward to us locking the house down and everyone getting a long day’s rest. We don’t have anything planned today. Do we?”

  Austin shook her head. “Ringo wanted to go guitar shopping when we went to the art supply store, but I’m sure he won’t mind if we do that tonight or tomorrow.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Ringo said, setting his pad and pencil case down on the island and hopping up to his stool.

  “After the chaos of the night,” Thea said, handing him a glass of pineapple juice, “we were talking about taking a total day of rest and coming back to life after dark. Can your shopping spree wait until tonight?”

  Ringo snagged a fresh biscuit from the basket and hissed as it burned his fingers. Austin tossed him a napkin and pointed to the table for the knives and butter. “Sure. I’m good. If Bo’s not up for testing out guitars—”
>
  “Bo is definitely up for it, little brother,” Bo said, striding into the kitchen, fresh from the shower and wearing green scrubs. The five of them hugged their Viking man and welcomed him home while the rest of the warriors filed in and took their seats around the long harvest table. “Just another night in the trenches, folks. All’s well that ends well.”

  Thea nodded and carried two more platters over to the table. “And thank the Blessed Lady for that.”

  Zander stood and lit the wide ivory pillar on the buffet. “Lady Divinity, we honor you. We thank you for watching over us and vanquishing darkness and evil from our lives. Thank you for Bo’s safe return and all the gifts you bestow upon us on the regular.”

  Each of the warriors placed a hand over their hearts, closed their eyes, and spoke in unison. “We honor you.”

  The men all shifted to take their seats, but Bo didn’t move. Thea squeezed his wrist and smiled when he blinked back to the present. “Your breakfast awaits, warrior. Would you like to take your seat?”

  Bo glanced at the worried looks around the table and waved them away. “Sorry. Just zoned out there for a minute. S’all good.”

  Layne got home as the sky lightened in the east and the night ended. She was done. Drained. Dead. As she trudged up the driveway and headed to the side door, she was relieved to see that no lights remained on in the house. Jhaia was in bed, and she was glad not to have to face her yet. Despite her sister’s anger, Layne believed that once the talks of this stupid Otherworld Council died their last death, her siblings would see the Watchers for the liars they were and realize the Red-Metal Rebellion was the way to go.

  With her fingers extended as she approached the door, she turned her hand a quarter turn to the left, a half turn to the right, and then circled her finger twice around the deadbolt. The spell unlocked her private space, and she let herself inside. No lights. Her cranium thrummed like the practice stage for Battle of the Bands.

  All magic came with a price.

  After the amount of mental mining she’d done tonight, she’d be sporting a migraine for days.

  Grabbing the beanbag hot-pad from beside the microwave, she nuked the thing and took it to bed with her. Tossing it onto the comforter, she shucked off her clothes and headed into the bathroom. Even though she wanted nothing more than to drop like a felled tree onto the memory foam, she brushed, flossed, peed, and tied her hair up for a quick, hot shower.

  Dropping her head forward, she let the steaming spray pelt her back and neck. The tension eased a little if she addressed the problem right away. If she waited until she woke up this afternoon, she’d be seized up like a concrete block.

  Her breathing exercises worked enough to quell the nausea, which opened up the option to take something for the oncoming discomfort. Shutting things off, she grabbed the mile of terry her sister called a bath towel and wrapped it around her ribs and around again.

  From her bedside table, she pulled out some hand-rolled herbal relief and lit up. Holding the smoke in her lungs, she let the soothing effect creep way down deep. Exhaling the fragrant smoke, she pressed her fingers to her lips and sank onto the edge of the bed.

  The Viking’s mind surprised her.

  She pulled her hair free and flopped back to her pillows. She didn’t want to dwell on the experience, but it was true. She’d messed around with many minds and invaded more than a few. The Viking Watcher was sharp, strong, and—not that she would ever admit it to anyone—impressed her.

  She exhaled, grateful as the smoke took effect. A couple last long pulls and she butted out. The heating pad felt divine over her forehead and she pulled the comforter over her body. It sucked for them both that he forced her to engage him on such a highly emotional and vulnerable level.

  She did what had to be done.

  From here, Gideon and his goons could take the lead.

  Bo appreciated the love, but when the meal was done and the house grew quiet, an edgy restlessness wriggled around inside him. If he felt off before last night, it had compounded ten-fold now. Maybe he caught something down in Purgatory. Was there a Darkworld flu he wasn’t aware of?

  Felt like it.

  Giving up on the idea of shut-eye, he pulled his workout pants on and headed downstairs. Padding down the hall in his bare feet, he smiled as he hit the top of the stairs. Austin’s soft hum carried from inside their suite, and he pictured her smiling down at baby Nio, settling her in for a long family sleep.

  Trotting down the two flights of stairs, he marveled at the trompe l’oeil painting Ringo finished in the foyer while he was away. The depiction of wild horses racing over the grassy planes, their manes glistening in the sunshine, was no less awe-inspiring than Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel.

  Their little brother’s gifts amazed them all.

  The door to access the stairs to the tunnel was open, so he headed down. The killer guitar rifting of “Crazy Train” welcomed him to the gym, and he shifted his plan from meditation to sweating his ass off with his brother.

  “Hey, D,” he said, passing the Persian on the treadmill and heading over to the water stand to grab a workout bottle.

  “You good?” Danel’s trainers hit the rubber track in a pounding rhythm. He was booking it like he was outrunning an angry dragon.

  “I guess.” He caught the worried look and shook him off. “It’s not from tonight. The past few days, I’ve been off. I think I’m coming down with something.”

  Danel chuffed. “We don’t do germs, Viking. Try again.”

  “Seriously. Buzzsaw headache that rages and recedes but never goes away. My skin aches. I’m edgy and eager for a fight. I’m hungry, but nothing I eat fills the void.”

  Danel stepped to the side runners of the machine and shut things off. “‘Kay, ignore the crudeness and intrusion of the question, but how’s your cock? Are you rocking stone at the slightest breeze?”

  Bo scowled and focused on tightening the lid of his water bottle. The guy had warned him the question was out of bounds, but fuck. “Uh . . . yeah, off and on. It’s getting worse now that the raw and chaff is healing from Purgatory.”

  Dabbing his face and neck with a towel, the Persian hopped off the treadmill. “Have you got a female running through your head?”

  He took a drink, but the flow of wet did nothing to moisten his dry throat. “Not really. Flashes of moments at Shayton’s party. It’s all a blur, honestly.”

  Danel looked more worried by the moment.

  “What’s on your mind, D? You think I caught some kind of STDemon.”

  “What about your beast? Is he yanking your chain more than usual?”

  He stilled and took stock, considering his brother’s question. “Not really. Pacing maybe, but not fighting.”

  Danel nodded. “Okay, well, that’s good. It would totally suck if you bonded with a female during the Dark Prince’s party. You wouldn’t even remember who you were with. That would’ve been a nightmare.”

  “You think I fucked my mate down there?”

  He scrubbed his hand over his goatee and shook his head. “I’m reaching. If you sexed up your other half, even if you were drunk or drugged by the atmosphere, your beast would know. He’d be pulling at your tether, making your life hell. You’d be rocking the impulse to find her and claim her before your heart burst, and your cock throbbing drove you around the bend.”

  “Well, good then,” Bo said, heading for the weight system. “Glad it’s not that.” He set the weight on the flexible bars and took hold of the grips. Planting his feet, he gave a couple of warm-up pulls. “What went down in Purgatory wasn’t my finest moment. I picture myself finding my mate as a gentleman. You know, protecting a human in the streets, or a female coming to the council for help or something like that.”

  “A white knight scenario?”

  It sounded stupid when Danel said it like that.

  “Okay, strike that from the record. That makes me sound like a lame Nancy.”

  Danel’s chest bounced
as he headed to the barbells. “Trust me, my brother. Mating with your female will bring out every corny need to be her hero. White knighting it is just the beginning. You’ll spend every waking moment thinking about her, what she needs, what she might want, what would put a smile on her face. Lame doesn’t even cover it. The five of us are absolutely whipped.”

  “And loving every minute of it.”

  Danel sat on the bench, locked his elbow inside his thigh, and started to curl. The Persian’s gooey smile spoke of how much he loved every minute of it. “It’ll come, my brother. Likely, when you least expect it, and probably with who you least expect. When you find your mate, you’ll know, and there won’t be anything to do except make it work.”

  As the two of them got back to working out, he was thankful he wasn’t bonded.

  The young male who’d earned Gyda’s love and trust was who he wanted to be to his female. He lost sight of that male for centuries, but his little trip into Memorylandia brought it back to the forefront.

  He was more than the base instinct of lust and gluttony he’d been in Purgatory. He’d raise his moral bar and be the mate a female would be proud to claim one day.

  Layne woke as the orgasm took her, her core throbbing and moist, her nipples hard. Stiffening in her sheets, she groaned and rode it out, half-angry she hadn’t gotten to finish her dream, half-angry her most explosive orgasm wasn’t even real. Closing her eyes against the fog of her morning brain, she focused on the moist bliss between her thighs. She reached down and it didn’t take much to relight the roasty-toasty heat of her wet dream. She’d been sexually charged since Purgatory and her exhausted gray matter was obviously seeking a way to capitalize on that.

  Her breath caught in her throat as a roaring second wave built. She kept her fingers sliding and gliding, the pleasure nearly unbearable and definitely impossible to deny.

  Out of nowhere, the Viking warrior invaded her dream state. The fullness of him buried inside her. The gentle caress of his mouth on her—